TS3 Chapter 10

Chapter 10

May 9^th, 2014 

Maldonado, Uruguay

“Boss!” the man shouted in Russian as he descended from the cab and a young girl rushed to get his suitcase out of the trunk. A satisfied smile illuminated his face when he took a good look at the two stores tall, large house, surrounded by an eucalyptus forest. He could smell and hear the roar of the sea hidden by the knoll that protected the house from the strong winds. The place's elegance and tranquillity pleased him.

“Dima!” Constantin greeted his former henchman as he descended the steps of his main entrance. Both men hugged each other and Constantin patted the Chechen's back vigorously. “Let's go inside,” he said. 

Dima Klatschko frowned when they entered in the foyer and saw two construction workers still painting one of the walls in a nice shade of beige. 

“Are you in the middle of a reform, boss?” Dimitri Klatschko knew how much his superior hated disorder and dirt and that could only mean an extra load of stress for his employees. 

“Construction workers are my karma since two years. I miss the hotel, Dima. They always say they will finish tomorrow but tomorrow never comes.” Constantin shrugged. For him, the men's presence was a minor inconvenience as the main part of the house was already finished and he was pleased with the results.  

“Very nice, boss.” Dima said as he admired the elegant and classical wooden furnitures on the foyer and high ceilings. “What's this house?” 

“It's the New Tudor style reinterpreted by Latin Americans,” Constantin smirked. “But I like the countryside and the construction is solid. This place is away from civilization but it can be reached in twenty minutes by car. It used to be an ostrich farm.” Constantin replied as he led Dima to the small winter garden. 

“Ostrich farm? Like Big Bird?” 

“The local ostrich; ñandú. I kept several of them. They're funny looking creatures. I think the foreman still sells eggs and feathers under the table.” Constantin opened a door and they entered in the small salon, with the table already set for tea. Dima knew his boss very well to drop by unannounced. 

“Should I settle the score, boss?” Dima chuckled as he sat in the chair Constantin had shown him with only one glance. 

“No need to. I'll speak to him. I think it's more of a problem that he can't part with the birds.” Constantin watched how a butler set a large silver tray with two cups of tea, two tea glasses and sandwiches while his cook, a rubicund woman brought the samovar, holding it with two oven gloves and a large cloth to prevent herself to get burnt. Dima watched very amused how the woman kept a good distance to the samovar as she placed the small kettle on top of it. 

“Did you tell them that we don't put nitroglycerine inside it?” Dima chuckled when the servants left the room. “Or is there any?” 

“It was quite a challenge to teach these people how to use it.” Constantin shrugged as he waited for the black tea to be ready. “On my first day, I got a boiling kettle, a dish full of tea leaves and the samovar in the centre surrounded by flowers. They were utterly shocked when I showed them how to use it.”

“Did you use the boot?” Dima smirked. “My grandfather had the same for over fifty years.” 

“No, not yet. I'm reserving that for the winter,” Constantin laughed and his hand reached to get the teapot down and poured some dark tea in the glasses before he opened the faucet to add some boiling water. “Then, in their haste to be nice to me, I got eucalyptus wood sticks. I felt like a koala.”

Dima laughed at his boss' joke and eased his stance a bit while both men drank their tea in silence. Catching Repin in a good mood was rare. 

“Isn't that Conor's portrait?” Dima asked as he pointed his finger towards the framed pencil drawing of a rubicund smiling baby. 

“Yes, it is,” answered Constantin. “I got it back along with almost all of my paintings a few weeks ago. We hanged them a few days ago.” 

“Always having good friends in the proper places, boss.” 

“Or that some people prefer the happy and retired version of me. After all, Guntram refused to have them back. He abandoned all his work to the Russian state. A real shame. How is your family?” 

“I sent them to Dubai.” Dima told Constantin gloomily. “The women can shop all what they want and keep their heads out of trouble.” 

“Were they not in Cancun?” 

“They were, until my eldest daughter began to behave like a whore. Mini skirts! She says all girls dress like that! I said, where's your hayaa’? Nobody is going to marry you!” 

“I see.” 

“She stopped praying and I don't know what nonsense she said to my wife. Then, she wants to hang around with boys and her brothers got into trouble with the police because tourist boys were coming unto my little girl. What does my wife say? “Go playing golf, Dima. It will relax you.” I'm not too religious, I drink, I don't do all the prayers, it must be my fault because the girl doesn't know how to be a good Muslim. It must be the new country. I didn't know how to fix it or where to find a good Mosque so I went to play golf to a fancy place.” 

“I would have paid to see that,” Constantin commented with a smile as he took a sandwich. 

“I paid for both of us, boss. The whole thing was very expensive! One day, I was there, minding nobody else's business, trying to shoot on the green and there I hear that horrible voice, a high pitched one, drilling my ears. “Are you going to take like forever?” I turned around there it was; an American elephant, upset because she couldn't put her fucking ball on the tee without help.” 

Constantin laughed at the description. “I assume you were a gentleman and let the elephant play first.” 

“I did and she tells me. “Your grip is horrible. You belong in the practice area or better, you should take lessons. Watch how it's done.” And the cow pushed me aside! I was furious with her. She did her thing and went away. 'My grip is horrible? How about my aim?' I thought and took the three-wood, swung it and my aerodynamic Tiger Woods' ball hit -well, it smashed- her head.”

“Brain injury?” 

“No, the cow fell dead, right on the green. All her walrus-fat must have clogged an artery or something. I left her there and went home. I'm not made for the retired people life.”

“Obviously not, my friend,” Constantin sneered and shook his head in a mocked reprimand to his underlying.  

“Can I get my old job back?” Dima asked shyly, hoping that the story had turned Constantin into a generous mode. 

Constantin chuckled. “There was never another man for the job but you, Dimitri Fedorovich.” 

“I haven't seen anyone here.” 

“There is nobody here.” Dima looked at his boss in shock. “I don't need my own army here and honestly; it would arise suspicions. As I said before, people like me happy and retired. I have no active enemies at the time and this place is far away from the centre of the universe.” 

“You'll die before you retire, boss. Massaiev was a lucky bastard. He died on the job.” 

“Indeed but in the past years I've discovered the joys of outsourcing. Why do the job all by yourself when there's always someone ready to do it for you at a cheaper price? Globalization is a good thing, my friend.” 

“Are you sending me away, boss?” 

“I would never send away anyone who can kill with a golf ball,” Constantin said amiably. “You're welcome to stay for as long as you want, but I'm afraid things here could be a bit slow for your taste. The most dangerous thing around here is standing at the balcony door.” Constantin pointed at the crystal windows that overlooked over a palm grove and a soft knoll. 

“That thing?” Dima asked when he saw a dark grey-bluish bird the size of a goose, with a brilliant red peak and legs, strongly pecking the glass, demanding its daily morsel. 

“That's a chajá and our official bully. Up to the cows fear him.”

“Boss, you were never a sheep in a wolf's skin.”

“I'm not. I'm just letting other people do my job.” 

“No place for me?” 

“Of course there's a place for you, but it won't be like in the past.”

“Don't you want to kill Lintorff? I want to skin Aliosha Antonov alive for what he did to Vania.” 

“No.” 

Dima blinked several times. “No?” 

“No. Death is a too kind punishment for him and before you ask me, I have no further plans for his two bastards. That only strains my relationship with Guntram.” 

“What about Conor? That baby was yours.” 

“He's mine as well as the father is.” Constantin said coldly.  

Dima averted his eyes as he was afraid of the turn the talk had taken. The Chechen wanted to be somewhere else. Boss was still obsessed with the boy and once more he was in the middle. It was a real pity the boy had so many preconceptions that prevented him to be happy with the boss. Those two were a match and they should be less crazy about everything, stop fighting for the smallest thing and do the world a favor. When the boy was around, boss didn't get into so much trouble and things ran smoothly.

“You still haven't met Kostya.” Constantin changed his tone and rang the bell. A young woman entered the room and Constantin spoke a few words in a strongly accented Spanish. She smiled and left the room. 

“Do you have a new... boyfriend?” Dima frowned at the idea and its implications. Looking for a replacement for the boy could only mean trouble and Massaiev wasn't around any longer to do the clean up.

“With the only exception of Guntram, I'm not into long-term relationships.” Constantin answered with an enigmatic smile. “Maybe I do have a job for you. How about protecting Kostya with your life?” 

A soft knock on the wooden door made Dima turn his head and he gaped when a middle-aged woman entered in the room, taking a small blond child by his hand and saying something in French. The toddler ran towards Constantin and jumped on him, his small hands clutching his neck. 

“Papa,” Kostya said and kissed Constantin on the cheek. The man smiled at him and let him sit on his knees as he gave him a small ham and cheese sandwich. 

“This is my son, Konstantin Arseniev. He's two years old.” 

Dima frowned, speechless and took a good look at the very nice looking boy. In a way, he looked very much like Conor, with the same luminous blue eyes and delicate nose like Guntram's, but the expression of deep concentration on his face as he silently ate the sandwich was something he had seen before. 

“He looks like your second boy, boss. I mean, his face looks like Guntram's but on the other side, his expressions are... yours,” the Chechen said puzzled. 

“Although Guntram never believed me, we were a family. Conor is fifty percent mine. After a long journey, I found the right mother for our sons.” 

“Galina Constantinova?” Dima opened his dark eyes wide. 

“She volunteered. I asked nothing. For her it was like giving some cells away. Sometimes, I think I should have let her deal with my dear late wife.”

“That would have been a carnage like the world had never seen before,” chuckled Dima. “She had your methods and none of your inhibitions, boss. I think she's cleverer than you, boss.” 

“Women are like that. As men, we have a romantic view of violence but women think it's their privilege to use it. Good for us that Galina preferred a scientific career over business.” 

* * * 

Guntram de Lisle's Diary 

May 16^th, 2014 

Fedérico is still in my flat. If Mirko wouldn't have been such a bastard, I would have thrown him out days ago. But I can't. He's heartbroken and his way to “tell it” is by leaving all his dirty laundry scattered in my living-room. He told me he can't understand the Miele washing machine because it's in German. What the hell did you expect a German washing machine would speak? I taught him some German but it was useless, he forgot it all and finally I had to glue post-its with the translations to the machine. 

He wanted to move in with me!!! 

I would have killed him in less than a week! 

Everything is one of Goran's schemes. I know it but I can't prove it. He “fired” Fedérico from “active duty”-not that he minds it too much- and put another Serb in his place. 

I've been thinking a lot about our talk at the Museum and I still haven't reached any conclusions. None at all. Maybe I felt something deeper than a friendship for Constantin-before what he did in Argentina-but didn't want to acknowledge it when I was fine with Konrad. 

Or maybe I'm doing it now because I'm having some sort of trouble with Konrad. 

Trouble is too much. We're great together at the moment but I'm getting more and more frustrated because he does nothing nowadays. He goes to work every morning but lets everything run on autopilot. I mean, he only wants to spend time with me while Ferdinand, Goran, Michael, Albert and Adolf “run the circus” as they please. 

Especially Goran. He's taking more and more risks and Konrad says nothing. Some days, I feel like he's over-exhausted because of all what happened with Constantin and refuses to fight any more. 

In some way, that's unsettling for me. It didn't take too long for Konrad to “reach a gentlemen's pact” with Constantin; he leaves me alone till I kick the bucket and Konrad does the same for him. 

Truth to be said, I haven't heard from Constantin in over two years when before he was more than glad to drive me nuts like he did at Kurt's baptism. I was expecting some kind of retaliation when Konrad and I married, but none came. It looks like as if the earth has swallowed him. Konrad does his best to forget all about what happened as if he were terrified of the past. On weekends, he's nearly catatonic until the boys force him to play with them. 

Maybe I think so much on Constantin because he's nowhere to be found and he's shown no interest on me.

I don't know if that makes me feel at ease or be more nervous. I know he won't give up and in a way, he's more energetic than Konrad ever was. You can tell he's always plotting something while Konrad only reacts to attacks and keeps a very low profile on “peaceful times”.

I must stop thinking on him or I'll be banging on his door one of these days.   

Four days ago-a month later than when it was announced-the falcon arrived and that added some more fuel to the fire. That bird is... Never mind. It shits everywhere. 

How does Gulya think that I can concentrate on anything if I have a bird flying over my head? Merlin hates the perch I bought for him-I have every intention of billing her for that-. If Fefo's theory about my artistic skills is true, I shouldn't feel bad for boiling that bird for contemporary arts' sake. 

Forget about drawing it. Merlin flies around nonstop no matter if I try to bribe him with raw meat. No way I'm buying living mice for him. I'll phone Gulya tomorrow and she can take that beast away. A Picasso kind of falcon would look good in her portrait. Very pop.

Once that the bloody thing decided that the top of the moldings over the windows in the atelier was a good place to spend the day, I began to work again. 

Today the doorbell rang and I went to get it -Fefo and Nicoletta were away solving their shopping differences-.

There, standing at my doorstep was Enrico di Mattei, former Komtur of Italy -or maybe he still keeps his job- and our newest Councillor. I greeted him and he entered in my flat as if he were the boss (probably he is). I offered him a coffee or a drink (don’t know, maybe mobsters drink at 11 a.m.) He wanted a tea and didn't mind to go to the kitchen for it. 

“Goran lives one floor below,” I said as I prepared the tea. 

“I'm not here to see Pavicevic.” Enrico said and that gave me the chills. 

“Thank you so much for the recordings,” I said as it's good to keep a good relationship with one of your husband's best customers. I never asked Konrad if he has any kind of fidelity program or something like this. I guess not. 

“I'm glad you liked it.” He said and asked honey for his tea. “I wanted to speak with you.” 

“With me? I'm afraid I'm more out of everything than ever,” I answered quickly. 

He frowned at me. I know a big guy like you can take rejection well. “It has nothing to do with the Order. Albert sees to my issues.” 

“I can only speak about Arts.” I said and it's true. 

“I'm trying to understand something.” I looked at him puzzled. “You were away for three years, living with Constantin Repin and then, you returned. How did you manage to do that?” 

I gaped at him. “It wasn't a happy camping trip.” I seethed. 

“You know Repin better than any other person I know. Not even his children knew him.” 

“If he owes you something, I can do nothing for you.” 

“I never did business with him. He was more into weapons-large things-, governments and that's not my thing... It's just, I don't understand it.” 

“What is that you don't understand?” The guy was beginning to get to my nerves and the boiling kettle was standing too near to my hand to feel comfortable. 

“How he became so... obsessed by you. I mean, what did you do to him?” 

“I did nothing to him.” I answered firmly. “He came after me and he could have well saved us the trouble.” 

“Was it because you paint? I mean, your things are very nice, but that's not enough. You can buy whatever you want.” 

“Why don't you ask him?” I barked. 

“I can't. My questions are more of an Anthropological nature. You see, there was a Komtur, Slobodan Majardze and he ruled Spain with an iron fist. I don't know if he was gay or not. In any case, he liked both. One day, he was attacked, stabbed to death and a boy saved his life. Goran said that he had been stabbed in the brain because in the hospital he was talking about demons and angels and then, he became obsessed with the boy. He was working very little and made a war out of a little misunderstanding with some Colombians, the same that were somehow mixed with your kidnapping, and finally he ran after the boy, leaving all behind.”

“Leaving all behind?” 

“Everything. Money, properties, connections. We never heard anything more about him. He even left the boy behind.” 

“I don't understand you.” 

“The boy lives in London with an old folk but he remembers nothing about Majardze. Well, he can't remember what he’s had for breakfast, that's true. He has some kind of brain damage.” 

“Maybe your lost Komtur just had enough of everything.” That's the most reasonable thing to think about the whole mess.  

“The funny thing is that Majardze had something to do with that car accident in Madrid where Roger de Lisle was killed. You weren't here when he vanished into thin air.” Enrico told me and I began to follow the little dots. 

“Are you accusing me of killing the man who murdered my uncle? That I asked Repin to do it?” I was furious. “I would have loved to, but I didn't nor asked Repin to do it. In any case, he wouldn't have done it because he couldn't gain anything from that.” 

“No, no, I didn't mean that.” The man looked afraid at my outburst. “It's just... it's hard to say it, but there were rumors about the de Lisles in the past.” 

“Rumors?” 

“Witchcraft as some people call it or the “Keepers of the Graal”, as the old members used to call your bloodline. Everybody knew about your family’s powers.” 

“I had nothing to do with that man's disappearance.” I glared at him.

“Majardze used to call the boy “his angel” and I saw him once predicting six horse races results and he didn't miss a single one. Repin did the same with you, or that's what I've heard.”

“That's a stupid nickname that I hate and I fail to see the logics behind your reasoning.” 

“I know, this is why it's so embarrassing to ask this. Are you really one of the Keepers of the Graal?” 

“That's a stupid legend,” I said firmly. Damn my father if he was spreading stories around. “We don't even know if we are really of Merovingian descent. Even if we were, remember that noblemen used to lie about their origins saying they descended from the gods just to keep people under their fist.”

“I don't think this is a legend. I'm from Bari and we are used to see things that modern people don't think could exist. Your family had the Holy Grail but it disappeared after your rebellion. The Order never got a hold on it though they wanted it. Where is it now?” 

“It was never such a thing no matter what they could have told you.” I felt like exploding in fury. That sounded very much like Michel's. 

“You don't have it?” 

“No, I don't.” I said and he looked at me pensively. “And I don't know where it is. It was lost after my father's suicide. I was seven years old when it happened and lived very far away from this madness.” 

“That's what puzzles me the most,” he said earnestly.

I gaped at him. He had the nerve to come to my house to accuse me of I don't know what, stir a pot which is full of shit and ask for a tea? 

“Your uncle evaded the Order for over twenty years,” he said. 

“Not long enough, it seems.” I replied. 

“It's a very long time. Normally we do traitors within a year. It's like as if an unknown force would be protecting you. Nothing touches you or your family. You were with Repin and we all know; nothing survives him for too long. Your uncle died just when you were old enough as to take his place as guardian. I'm just shocked by you.”

“Shocked by me? You have never seen me for more than five minutes.” 

“That's what troubles me most. I barely know you and can't stop thinking about you.” 

I blinked like an idiot but fortunately he was kind enough as to explain it to me. “I never had any inclinations towards men but I can't stop thinking about how it would be to kiss you. I'm married to the same wife since twenty years and I have the same mistress since ten. It's driving me mad. I can understand Repin now. I feel like a moth attracted to the fire. Do you know that they think that the light is the water they seek and jump to it despite they can feel the heat?” 

“No matter what you think, it won't be funny when I shot you in the head if you try anything.” I warned him. 

“I want nothing with you. I don't even know what to do or if I'd like it.” Enrico told me and for a second I thought I was visiting the land of lunatics. This guy should meet my shrink. Ah, by the way, I sent him to hell. 

“What is exactly what you want from me?” The nice Guntram times are over. Speak blunt, get less troubles. 

“To understand what's going on in my head. I can't be with my wife or with my girlfriend because I only think of you. All of you are witches or something like this?”

Why don't you try Viagra? I thought but kept myself quiet. The poor guy needs an army of shrinks if he's doubting his sexuality by being obsessed with a Keeper of the Graal. See Guntram? There's always someone crazier than you. 

“It's just a phase. Maybe you're just having a few fantasies and that's all. It will be over sooner than you think.” I said instead. 

“What if you bewitched me like you did Repin or like that boy did to Majardze?” 

“I cast no spells, Mr. di Mattei.” 

“Lintorff had no boys before you. He was a ladies' man. We all knew that.” 

Really? Ask my uncle Roger and the many others before me. Great, now I'm guilty that poor Konrad followed the wrong path. “I think I'm number fortieth or fiftieth, I'm not sure. Ask Repin. Konrad and he used to go hunting together.” The kettle had cooled down some degrees but I was getting hotter and hotter. 

This man lives in Mars because he looked at me transfixed as I had revealed one of the earth's greatest mysteries. 

“If you're having doubts about your own sexuality, perhaps a close friend or a professional would be more suited than I to address the question.”

“I'm sorry If I'm troubling you. It's just, there is nobody I can speak with about this.” 

I felt a bit bad for the guy. Heck! Constantin had to kill extra people just to earn some mobsters' respect and those Siberian monkeys were permanently poking at him just for being gay. Having a special friend in prison is a necessity and is accepted but outside, they're all alphas. If Konrad was keeping it a secret-don't know how-homosexuality must be a great problem for mobsters no matter what they do when they go down. 

“I have no interest in you.” I said clearly. “I'm married.”

“Of course I would never try anything with you. I have the utmost respect for Konrad von Lintorff,” he sounded offended. “And I like to keep my head attached to the rest of my body.”

“I guess people have second thoughts now and then.” I said. “But it doesn't mean you're gay. Go home to your wife and forget all about this.” 

Shit! I just said what Constantin once told me I would if I were a prostitute and had a customer! The fucker knew me too well.

“How was it for you?” I looked at him dumbfounded. “How is to discover you're gay? I mean, we know we like girls since we are born and then, one day you start looking at other men... lustfully.” 

Who says “lustfully”? I don't. 

“I never looked at any other men with second intentions before Konrad.” I answered. “In fact, I was planning to get a good-paying job, marry and have lots of children. I never looked at other boys lustfully and not even now. I only like Konrad.” 

“But you were with... Repin.” 

“That wasn't love. Maybe we had some kind of friendship in the past and before you ask, I was with other men, but I didn't enjoy it. Is that clear?”

“How do you get over it?” 

“I don't know. You have to figure it out by yourself. The best is for you to go home and think on all the good things you like to do with the people you love. If you never felt this inclination, then there isn't any reason why you should do it now.”

“Lots of men change their views when they're forty.” 

“What do you want me to do? To kiss you?” 

“No! Phew!” The guy looked really disgusted. Taking your fantasies into reality isn't always a good thing. 

“There you have your answer. Your identity crisis is over.” 

“Maybe you're right. Thank you.” He rose from the stool and I did the same and grabbed the two cups to put them in the sink. Faster than a ray of light he grabbed me by the waist and kissed me on the lips with a lot of passion. He let go of me and looked at me asking me something with his eyes.

I gave him a punch in the face and Romeo cooled down in less than a second. I spat on the sink. 

“Get out!” I said furious. 

“I thought the kiss was a serious offer.” 

“Serious is the bullet you'll get between your eyes.” I growled and he staggered two steps backwards. 

“You have the eyes of a punisher angel,” he babbled. 

“And the soul of one if you don't leave now.” 

“I see now why Pavicevic fears you. It's true what they say. The legend.” 

“Get out!” 

He began to walk without turning his back to me, slowly towards the main entrance. “Forgive me. I needed to know.” 

“What the hell did you need to know? If you're gay. Yes, you are.” 

“No, if you're a true heir to your people. To our faith. I've seen your true self now.” He rose his hands in the air. “We, the true believers will follow your lead, Sire.” 

The world is full of lunatics. 

“Get out and if I ever see you again, you'll be dead.” 

“I never meant to offend you, sir,” he told me fearfully and I couldn't understand why he had changed his demeanor so much. From what I've heard, Italy trembles under his foot. 

“We carry your mark and have waited for your return.” He removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeve to show me a scarified tattoo of part of my family's coat of arms; the chalice and the alpha and omega Greek symbols. 

“Go home and stop reading stupid novels.” I grunted. “There isn't any Holy Grail.” 

“I understand, sir. We'll be waiting for your orders.”

The lunatic left my home and I wanted to kill my father. If he has been making up stories, he's so dead. I told him I was passing by his house to have lunch.  

But first, I have to burn down these pages in the bathroom's sink. 

* * * 

“My week has been hellish and thanks to you,” Guntram barked before Michel could remove his coat. Guntram had been pacing back and forth in his father's living-room, refusing to drink the fragrant mint tea Fairuza had served him. Not even her almond filled chebakkias could temper down his righteous fury.   

“I'd like to say “I told you so,” but it will be useless, won't it?” Michel shrugged as he carelessly dropped the coat over the chesterfield sofa.  

“It has nothing to do with Konrad!” Guntram roared out of himself. “Today, one of the councillors, di Mattei began to tell stories about the Holy Grail! He swore his allegiance to me and has tattooed our emblem on his arm! All this must come from one place and I'm looking at it!” 

“I didn't have any kind of contacts with Enrico di Mattei since a very long time. I spoke with his father before 1989 but then, never again. If he knows it, it is because the Guardians are still active.”

“Which Guardians?” 

“The men who helped our family to protect the cup. Although the ultimate responsibility of safeguarding it was laid upon our heads, there were other men who gave their lives and riches to keep it safe.” Michael said. “You already know several of them.” 

“Who?” 

“The men who are my bodyguards. Thabo is a Copt like his men. They have suffered the unspeakable to bear witness of our Lord's word. Being a Christian in Africa isn't the easiest thing. He also wears the mark you saw. It's something passed down from fathers to children. They helped me to escape and hide. In return, I helped them to get his people out of their countries and start anew in Europe. Now will you sit down like a civilized person or will you continue to shout like a fishmonger on a slow market day?” 

Huffing, Guntram sat in one of his father's Louis XIV large chairs and glared at him as the man sat in front of him and served himself a cup of the already cold mint tea. Michel took the platter filled with golden puff pastry fingers laden with honey and offered it to Guntram. 

“You would never lift a finger for anyone,” Guntram refused the pastries with his head and Michel took one.  

“Is that what you think of me?” 

“Did you ever help uncle Roger's wife and daughter?” Guntram snorted, unable to digest his father's audacity to play the lamb with him. 

“They didn't want my help. They knew that protecting our lineage was more important than anything else. And we did. Look where you are now and how things begin to fall into place again. Lintorff was bad enough but Pavicevic is unacceptable.” Michel said calmly. “It's understandable that people turn to you for guidance. The Komturen are just guests in the Order. Unwanted guests if you want to know my opinion.” 

“The one who approached me is a Komtur,” Guntram said sarcastically. 

“The Di Mattei family had been on our side since generations. If they were forced to be part of less than savory businesses, it was because their survival was at stake.” 

“Poor dears, forced to become mobsters in order to keep their riches.” 

“If you'd read a little more instead of senselessly speaking common places, you'd know that banditry has a long tradition in the south of Italy and a much older history of fighting against the oppression of the Bourbons and Fascism. They are free men who only obey God, Guntram.” 

“Especially when they're ransacking Pompeii's remains or organizing a garbage strike in the middle of the summer.” Guntram answered and Michel opened his mouth to answer the challenge. “Save it, father. I haven't said anything about drugs trafficking.” 

“Nothing of this would have happened if you would have done what I asked from you months ago.” 

“Which was?” 

“Get our cup back!” 

“Fine! If that's what's needed to get rid of all of you, I'll do it.” 

“These people will follow you to the end, Guntram. They had been waiting for you for the past twenty years.” 

“I never asked anything from them! They should go to Church and leave me alone.” 

“We don't trust the Roman Church since 1209, Guntram.” Michel said calmly. “All of them traitors, seeking for power and riches.” 

“First notice I have you dislike the Vatican, father. Something else I should know?” 

“The Roman Church has killed and oppressed more of your ancestors than any other form of human government.” 

“Are we not Catholics?” Guntram asked dismayed. 

“We are Christians but not Catholics.” 

Guntram glared at his father, uncomfortable with the mere idea of being witness to a heresy. 

“All visible matter was created by Satan; therefore, Jesus Christ can't be the Verb turned into flesh; He is a manifestation of God's purity. God can't be wrong to create evil things; evil is an entity in its own. The soul is the genderless spirit of angels, trapped within the physical creation of the devil. We do not believe in marriage for procreation but for the salvation of the soul. This is why I accept your joining with Lintorff. Maybe that soul finally becomes purified after many and many cycles of reincarnation.”

“Lord, that sounds like the Cathar heretics,” Guntram whispered impressed by his father's words as many pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, like for example his refusal to marry again or the fact that there was always fish and vegetables on the menu with chicken being rarely seen and only served to him. His father lived like an ascetic or a recluse even if he owned a several million Swiss Francs house. He went nowhere but to his work and refused to take part in any social activities. Guntram had believed his behavior was the result of the many years' lie he had been forced to live but now he saw it was something that ran deeper. 

With the exception of a little tantrum because he wasn't told beforehand, Michel didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that his only son loved another man. Guntram had realized that his father couldn't care less about his sexual preferences. The problem between them was the man he had chosen to be his companion; any other would have been fine. Even Constantin. 

“We never called each other Cathars. We are the Bons Hommes or the Good Christians. I am not one of the Perfecti but I will do my best to protect them or the people who seek that way. Your aunt and cousin saw their tribulations as a way to put the material world behind them. Any damage you do to the flesh, it's done to Satan.”  

“I was baptized,” Guntram stammered. 

“It means nothing. How can something coming from the impure material realm like water is bring salvation? Only Consolamentum does and it will come at the time of our death or if we are worthy of being Perfecto.”

Guntram needed to grab the chair's handle before the floor would rock him so violently that it would knock him down. 

“This isn't possible,” he whispered. “Cathars became extinct seven centuries ago.” 

“Not all of us, it seems.” Michel took the seat in front of his son. “Why do you think we hid the cup in Toulouse? If Guillaume obtained it, it was because our way was not the traditional Christian way the Muslims were used to know.” 

“How could you take part of the Order? Why? It's against everything you believe in.” Guntram was horrified of the implications his father's confession. 

“We had no other way to protect ourselves. The French Revolution wasn't kind to any kind of the true believers. We hid who we were and used the Order as an umbrella. We offered the cup to them.” 

“How can you be so... interested to get this cup back if you reject the material world? You don't even take the Eucharist. I've seen that, Michel.” 

“The cup holds no importance to us. It's just a token we need to secure our continuity and that many more souls are saved from this endless cycle of reincarnations.” 

“I don't understand you.” 

“Men are angels trapped in the flesh. They can only liberate themselves from Satan's clutches if they remember who they were and if we renounce to our material self. Mary Magdalene was our teacher and she taught us the right path. Our duty is to protect her teachings; her Gospel so other souls can be saved.”  

“Does all of this nonsense of being the children of Christ come from there?” 

“It is nonsense as you say because Jesus Christ didn't have a physical body, but we do descend from some of her disciples or perhaps from her children too.” 

“Why did you rise against Konrad if, in theory, you didn't care about his power?” 

“We rose against him because he was strengthening Satan's Church with all the riches he gave to it. Do you think those bishops asked from where the money came? Do you think they cared if it was obtained through misery and depravity? Lintorff was becoming more and more successful and people inside the Order turned out to be greedier and greedier. Zu Löwenstein was a Perfect One and he abandoned our ways to get more and more power. He didn't betray us in the strict sense of the term but his “conversion” showed my father we couldn't wait any more. This is when Pascal and I, along many others began to sabotage the Order from within.” 

“That's why my pardon was so important to Löwenstein,” Guntram muttered sadly. “I really thought he regretted what he had done to us.”

“Only another Perfect could have heard his Penance. Perhaps he thought that you, with your selfless behavior, were a Perfect. You gave your absolution freely and that speaks well of you.” 

“I thought my grandfather hated your political views and now you tell me he shared them.” 

“He disliked that I was getting so mixed with the world's politics. For us, there was no difference between a Christian or any other faith; if you are rich or poor. My friendship with a Mason was also something he frowned upon because they don't want to leave the world behind like we did. He accepted your mother without any questions even if her grandfather was a Jew and a Mason, but was disappointed when you were born.” 

“Was I such an ugly baby?” Guntram resorted to humor to hide his pain at the rejection from his own family. 

“No, he was proud of you as his heir; he felt sad that another soul was condemned to the material world. He would have preferred that I didn't have any children, but he was happy to welcome you when you came to us.”

“I'm not one of you.” Guntram said firmly. “I do believe in the Trinity and in the Holy Church.” 

“Well, you behave like one of us, though you don't believe in us.” 

“Uncle Roger wasn't exactly a saint,” Guntram retorted heatedly. 

“We aspire to sainthood though we are well aware that we may not achieve it. Roger didn't want to follow our path and we respected him for that. Perhaps he had not been in this earth long enough as to begin to gasp the Gnose. He always sided with us.”

“So you never cared if I was gay?” Gun tram asked slowly. 

“Why should it matter? My only concern is that you follow the right teachings and find goodness in your heart. It is true, I would have preferred that you chose a more elevated soul to share your journey with, but Lintorff has shown some improvement over the years. Perhaps you are his way to perfect his soul and maybe he sees the truth through your eyes. I can't know the ways of God.”

“I have a hippie father,” Guntram mumbled miserably and took a deep breath in. “And the hippie godfather version for grandfather.” 

“There was nothing more anti-hippie than my father, Guntram. He ruled the family with an iron fist and forgot the velvet glove at home. The Vicomte -we were forced to address him like that- was a man who only thought about the cause. He was very upset with me when I joined the May 68 movement. I was a total fool for letting me be caught by the police and be subjected to the French law.” 

“Your family was furious that you didn't marry Sybille and she had a lot of money at that time.” 

“Officially, yes. Off the record, my father was glad that I didn't break under Karl Heinz' pressure. For the lady's pride's sake, it was better to be rejected on foolish idealist grounds than because she was a materialist dunce.” 

“I can't believe a word you say. Cathars? Please, father. You used to lie better.” 

“Lies always sound better than the truth and I'm sorry if the truth sounds lame to your ears.” 

“We are not heretics!” 

“This is no heresy but what is truly written in the New Testament, Guntram. Read it with an open mind and then ask me about your doubts. This is not a way that can be imposed but it must come from within your heart. Read the Coptic versions of  the gospels.” 

“All this goes beyond my beliefs, father. I'm Catholic and you can't tell me that the Church is satanic when I've seen so many good things coming from it.” 

“Was it from the Church itself or from the men who gave their lives for their brothers?” Michel asked slowly. “What you consider to be good in the Roman Catholic Church can be found in any non-governmental organization.” 

“Fine! Let me be,” barked Guntram. “I'm very happy as I am.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh, shut up!” 

“It's you who's running away from his own church,” shrugged Michel. “I never condemned you on your chosen lifestyle nor told you that you would burn in hell.” Guntram glared at his father but kept silent. “Please, try to recover the cup and we will be out of your life, as you say.” 

“I'll get it for you, but keep those “Guardians” away from me.” 

“Thabo and his people will protect you whether you want it or not. We are your true friends and not the Order. You can't even trust Lintorff.” 

* * * 

Guntram de Lisle's diary

May 16^th, 2014

Today was a rather uneventful day. The falcon finally “saw” reason; we put the cowl back on his head and Merlin became a nice bird. I feel a bit bad to keep it in total darkness but he seems to be happy with that. 

In the afternoon Gulya passed by the flat and she's not the doll I thought. She began to look at the preliminary drafts and I could tell she wasn't happy. I'm also not happy for many reasons but Merlin the falcon takes the lead. 

“Do I look like this... prudish girl, Mr. de Lisle?” she asked me softly and at that moment I realized she was beyond pissed off. 

“Well, I was trying to achieve something classical.” Classical is a code-word for boring and lifeless or what I call the neo-kitsch. 

“This looks like something we can hang at an embassy.” 

I thought that your father was paying for something like that. If you want a portrait with a falcon, then be glad you don't get stuck in a petticoat and a corset. Nicoletta likes it. 

“You should have let me pose.” She pouted. 

And endure a happy chit-chat about Constantin's children doings? No, I don't think so. Classical is good for you girl. Think in twenty years from now onwards, when your children will have to take their mates home and see you like this; the proper portrait of their mother.

“My father would love this, but I don't like it.” 

“Sofia's portrait was very classical,” I said beginning to lose my patience. If you don't like, get your bird and be gone. I have many ideas to work with and none of them include you. Since my talk with Fefo, I've been feeling more liberated and my creativity returns. The down-part is that I care shit about what you think.

“I'm open to your suggestions.” I said shifting all the mess to her. 

She took off her clothes just like that. 

“I suppose you don't want the painting for the living-room then,” I said as I took one of the sketch pads. She sat on one of the stools, artistically crossing her legs and I'm glad she didn't wear any lace underwear because that's the line between porn and classical beauty. 

Fefo entered in the atelier carrying a tray with two tea mugs and dropped it when he saw Gulya and her falcon. He blushed violently and picked up the pieces and left embarrassed.

I think aliens abducted Fefo and transformed him into a robot.  

“Your friend is quite a fucking freak,” she informed me. 

Now you're a prude with a sailor's mouth. Ok, scrap with the Chanel look and get the trampy in. I was drawing her when she felt tired and went to sit to the on one of the chairs I have next to a large mirror. She laid down her head against the crystal and closed her eyes. The game of her reflection on the glass, the lights dancing over her body, and her dark hair freely flowing did it for me. 

I really didn't realize the time, but Fefo was kind enough as to kick me out from my own flat at his dinner time (and mine too but at home) He had recovered himself from his initial shock (he tells it's because naked ladies and I is something he had never seen but I think it's more because he saw a naked lady without nipple tassels) 

Gulya was very happy with the results but I don't think her father will be. 

Goran isn't going to be happy if the father is miserable. 

Time to make a 2x1. Get the classical and the trampy portraits for one. 

Ostermann will not be happy. 

I will be happy for two reasons; I finally know what to do and I've been asked to go clubbing by a girl for the first time in my life. I have the SMS to prove it. Hi Sweetie, I know a wonderful new place for a drink. See U tomorrow at 7.

Konrad will not be happy but it's business as he told me countless times.